


Blue Metal (And A Really Big One)

by Nununununu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Caretaking, Character(s) giving a gift they made themselves, Don't copy to another site, Escape Pod, Gift Giving, Hair Brushing, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Rocket's absolutely not doing something nice for Thor. He's just saving himself from wanting to claw his own eyes out in irritation.That's totally all this is.
Relationships: Rocket Raccoon/Thor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Writing Rainbow Make Up Round, Writing Rainbow: Blue





	Blue Metal (And A Really Big One)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> A gift for LionessValenti for Writing Rainbow Blue, written for the make up round. I loved your prompts for this pairing and hope you like it :)
> 
> (Orig posted 28/05; updated for author reveals)

“I’m not standing here until my hand falls off,” Rocket adamantly refuses to look at Thor, arm thrust out demandingly, pointing the thing he’s holding at Thor like a weapon, “Take it or I’m melting it down to make lock picks.”

“It is – a comb,” Thor’s huge hands come down to accept the thing, cradling it in his palms unnecessarily gently, “You have made me a comb.”

For some reason he sounds absurdly grateful. Ridiculous.

“State the obvious, why don’t you,” Item thus successfully delivered, Rocket crosses his arms and taps a foot, unable to entirely explain to himself why he doesn’t immediately go back to the parts of the escape pod he’s been deconstructing.

It’s not like pods routinely carry such a thing. It’s not like they planned to be in one in the first place, but – hey, adventure beckoned and stuff happened. There were explosions and Rocket got to shoot things, while Thor did his stuff with his hammer-and-axe-combo. It was pretty cool. Then more explosions, of the equally fun but somewhat more urgent variety given it had involved _morons_ blowing up their own ship while he and Thor were still on it, how dare they, and they had been forced to resort to the escape pod after ejecting a couple of said morons from it.

Rocket had been planning on modifying the pod to see if he could add cannons made out of its previous owners’ junk and crap he had in his pockets. Wasted time making a _comb_ of all things instead. Not like Thor probably even needs it, even if he’s kept on running his fingers through his hair and beard in Rocket’s peripheral vision on and off since locking the door to the pod, setting his jaw whenever he encounters tangles.

Every single time Rocket has found himself distracted, watching when he could have been creating shit to blow stuff up instead. _Every single time_. The sight of it makes him want to claw his eyes out.

Or so he tells himself.

It also makes something in his belly turn over – the sight of those strong, deft fingers sliding through golden locks – but that’s probably just hunger. Or indigestion. One or the other, depending on when Thor decides to paw at himself. Whatever.

Anyway, Thor’s still looking at Rocket weirdly now, a bit sideways, a bit wobbly mouthed, almost as if –

Nope. They’ve done the tears thing already once; Rocket’s not in any kind of hurry to go there again. The thought of how upset Thor had been back then is –

Yeah, no.

“Oh for the love of – _fine_ ,” Holding his hand back out, Rocket gestures for Thor to return the thing, “Sit your ass down and don’t imagine for one second this is going to be fun.”

“I wouldn’t dare to presume,” Thor vows very solemnly, although his lips are now twitching, mismatched eyes crinkling in amusement, which is a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Arranging himself obediently on the deck where Rocket pointed, he says nothing when Rocket kicks a toolbox over to climb up on behind him and get a hand into all that hair.

It feels _stupidly_ silky, regardless of tangles. Rocket freezes, catches himself a second later, and adamantly refuses to let himself to do something _really_ pathetic, like stroke it or something.

“Probably going to – to pull,” He sets the comb at the top of his handful of strands, snarling at himself for the fact he’s hesitating. Afraid of hurting the pirate-angel god of thunder by _tugging his hair_. Fucking –

Fucking ridiculous, right.

“It will be fine,” Thor assures him. Because he needs the reassurance, yeah right.

Huffing, Rocket draws the comb down almost savagely, stops just in time before hitting a particularly bad tangle. Rolling his eyes at himself, he sighs and gives in, proceeding to carefully sort the knotted strands out.

“Will you tell me where you found the metal for the comb?” Thor asks after a while. He’s got his elbows balanced on his knees, shoulders relaxing as Rocket works. Perhaps sensing he’s not going to receive an answer, he suggests, “Did you, perhaps –”

“Just found it lying around, yeah,” Rocket glances over at the various areas of the pod he’d prised open in search of something to make the thing out of and had judged inadequate. The opalescent blue metal he’d settled on in the end had perhaps not been the most practical and there had been no need whatsoever to spend time on making the comb look _pretty_ , but Thor’s an Asgardian and Asgardians for whatever reason seem to appreciate pretty things – Rocket snorts – and –

And _anyway_.

So he’d wanted to make it look nice for Thor. So fucking what. Rocket skirts away from his own internal monologue.

“I cannot say how much I appreciate it,” Thor is continuing.

“Yeah, don’t,” Rocket concentrates determinedly on another tangle.

“But the fact you made me this gift and the fact you are aiding me thus now –” Damn it, Thor’s sounding a bit choked up again.

“It’s really not a big deal,” So intent on downplaying Thor’s reaction, it takes Rocket a moment to realise what he’s said. It’s –

Not a big deal, is it. So why the hell is he acting like it is?

Why are they _both_ acting like it?

“I would be grateful if you will allow me to gift you with something in return,” Thor is continuing.

“You’re not giving me any sort of _grooming product_ ,” Rocket has to jab him warningly with the comb.

The bastard barely twitches.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a massive explosive,” Thor is also grinning; Rocket doesn’t have to be able to see him to hear it in his tone.

“Yeah, I –” He’s saying before he can stop himself, going to toss the comb in Thor’s lap – job done – and finding he just passes it over instead when Thor raises his hand, “All right. A _really_ big one, you got me?”

His fingers brush Thor’s broad palm and – well, who knows why, but Rocket finds he doesn’t feel the need to snatch his hand back right away.

“Yes, I’ve got you,” His voice warm, Thor agrees.


End file.
